There weren't many ways to get Maxwell to call someone an idiot, but it took a measure of will for the old cop to not snap something angry at the boy.
Maxwell Silver had been on the far right side of the group when Cecilia - Maxwell sorely wanted to call her "Lieutenant" - started transmitting coordinates. Maxwell didn't need orders to know what his job was: "Flanking right." He heard those first few air-splitting autocannon shots go off - Lang's, Maxwell knew - and the sound of some return fire. A quick glance at the radar confirmed Lang's count: six enemy FRAMEs. They seemed to be focused on the tangling with the boys and girls in the center, so if Maxwell could just utilize the nearby buildings for cover, he could -
No, the old cop thought as he saw a green arrow on the radar start moving toward the red ones. God, no.
That was Oliver's FRAME. He knew that all too well. The boy was throwing himself right into the middle of the enemy! Do you WANT to die? Maxwell wondered to himself, turning his FRAME earlier than he'd hope, cutting a hard left and putting the warmachine into a huge sprint.
There weren't many options. Maxwell could continue as he had been and get a more perfect flank, forcing the enemy into an exposed position while he fired safely from behind cover... but letting Oliver take fire from a number of military grade weapons. Maxwell's second option was to go in hot and do exactly what Oliver did in order to save the damned kid.
"A little help here, guys?" asked Oliver nervously.
"Acknowledged," answered Maxwell calmly. "Engaging."
Max burst out from a dirty street, his armed-to-the-teeth Dreq looking more like a riot FRAME than a weapon of war. He fired 21 milimeter rounds from behind his FRAME's shield as he closed in, taking fire from one of the civvie FRAMEs as he barreled on forward. A few rounds struck his exposed arm, but most slammed against his shield. The reactive armor snapped on off the shield as the first rounds hit, and a couple more shots found holes in the defenses and tore through the shield and into the Dreq's torso armor. More reactive bits sparked and flew off.
But Max wasn't in the habit of losing his cool after getting shot. He kept the attention of the first enemy FRAME, then found himself getting shot at by a second one. They tried moving on back to withdraw to more defensive ground - smart - but the old pilot finally got within fifty meters of his first opponent. The civilian units, already pounded by a spray of Max's bullets, now got a fair helping of fire. It belched forth from his flamethrower.
Truthfully, the fire wasn't particularly devastating on its own. Maxwell knew that. Oh, it could take a FRAME out as readily as any weapon once it was in range, perhaps a little better - but that took time. No, old Silver was doing something else.
"Targets blinded," Maxwell said as he transmitted data on exactly which FRAMEs had received that punishment. He moved into cover as quick as he could before he could be made a pincushion, hoping the boy had the sense to do the same. There were still a Hell of a lot of weapons that could fire their way.
